On my tartan picnic blanket
we sat in the residual heat
of August sun,
and waited for dog owners to leave.
We stoked our fire
of twigs and husk,
and by the time our shadows were long
I was under
your swinging rosary.
The arms of trees extended like a priest’s to the sky and the
I still wonder what it meant;
as you put your tights back on and I saw your
Two bottles of wine
Two bodies on a rooftop
Dressed like thieves in balaclavas
Four stories high
Four feet dangle off the edge
Swinging black scuffed sneakers
One body on a roof
Little girl painting her toes in the mirror grapefruit pink “Daddy’s home!” but she pretends she doesn’t hear Monday rolls around and Mummy’s still got a swollen eye A week
later Daddy takes his pills again and cleans the counters and brings tulips home
It’s now July and the girl watches fat bees gorge on orchids She picks one that’s apricot orange
After school she rides the bus to see Mummy but the flowers are already rusting at the tips “Thank you sweetie”
Says the nurse “I’ll make sure she gets it when she wakes up”
“Breathe your gentle fire, dragon.
Emanate your warmth
Sending shivers across wintry flesh.
Hot blood coursing your veins,
Radiating onto cool skin.”